


Memento Mori

by CloudDreamer



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Afterlife, Blaseball is a horror game, Does it count as major character death if it's set in the afterlife, Eldritch, Implied/Referenced Hallucinations, Isolation, Panic Attacks, The Blaseball Gods, The Hall of Flame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27770473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloudDreamer/pseuds/CloudDreamer
Summary: The Hall of Flame is a lonely place.If it's a place at all.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	Memento Mori

The Hall is cold. 

Jaylen’s not the first to arrive, not the first by a long shot, but she’s the first in over a thousand years and the older players, from the before, have all since faded away. Nobody to remember them by, no cheering crowds.. The evidence of their presence is still here, though, and part of her wants to go through as much of this vast, cavernous nightmare as she can, just to wipe it all away. Proof of another generation, proof that people failed. That the gods are still here. 

A god rules over this place, she figures that out pretty quick. Just like the Peanut that sent all those Umpires off into the fields, sent fire racing through their veins and crackling out through the air, towards her, to consume her— she can’t breathe, she’s coughing out smoke, someone’s turning towards her, screaming out her name, screaming, 

_”Jaylen!”_

She coughs, falling to her knees in the sand— no, not sand. Ash. Like the ashes that’s all Her body here is only half corporeal, and every little piece of her threatens to fall away into shadows if she puts too much pressure on it. Seeing her form dissolve, the black dissipating across the air like water, only to reform moments. Later makes her suck in a breath of air and feel the cold. 

It’s not freezing. There’s no wind here, no change in current. Even if she tries, waving her hand back and forth in the air only breaks apart her form. She can push around the ash, and that stays changed.. She can put her hand against the marble pillars that reach up to the sky so far above her that all she can see is blackness, though she can’t affect that. She doubts anything made from mortal materials could. 

She can’t sleep here. Can’t eat either, though she doesn’t feel the need for sleep or food. It’s not that she’s not tired or hungry, those aches still pile up, weighting her down, but they’re distant. She’s tried lying down or even curling up into a ball like she did when she was young and didn’t feel safe, but she’s found that if she stays still for too long in this place, she starts to go to pieces. 

And she really doesn’t like that. So, she keeps moving. One foot in front of another, wearing the same sneakers she wore to the game. Her clothes melt like her body does, it’s all part of the same form. Captured in a moment before disaster, dumped here in what Jaylen can’t help but think has to be just as much hell as anything out there in the desert. At least the poor fools in the Hellmouth have each other.

She keeps moving. 

She’d describe this place as somewhere underwater, if she couldn’t feel how dry the ash is. It took her a bit, upon finding herself here, to realize she wasn’t breathing anymore and couldn’t hear her heart. Maybe that was stupid, that it’d took her so long, but to be fair, she was having one hell of a panic attack. She keeps checking her pulse, like it’ll change anytime soon. 

She keeps moving. She wants company like she wants the heart in her chest to start beating again, but she’s too good a person, in theory, to want to consign someone else to this. She wants all her friends to stay alive, to win, to wipe the smug look off that ump’s face. 

Gravity here is strange. It’s not gone, and it’s not even low. When she walks, she walks like she’s on Earth, alive and everything, except for the obvious parts. But if she tries to jump, she goes high, before floating down. The heights she can go seem to be wildly inconsistent. She’s not a math person, but she’s pretty sure it’s all wrong. That this place shouldn’t exist. 

Like she’s one to talk. Like anyone in blaseball gives a damn about what should and shouldn’t exist. She’s dead. DEAD. 

And she lives, and she doesn’t live at the same time, and she’s been walking straight down this hall for what feels like hours, so how’s she dizzy? Jaylen screams sometimes. It echoes around her, an ugly noise that draws attention to every hollow thing about her. She wonders if she’s hearing things and seeing things yet or if the tentacle that sneaks down through the massive hall, wrapping itself around the marble so distant above her is a small part of the god that governs this place or maybe is this place in a gross fleshy way. Some of the nerd that like to pay attention to the forces that got them trapped in this situation— and she’s not just talking about the literally hell she’s in right now— could probably name the thing. She just flips it off and— 

keeps--

moving.


End file.
